Cheering Frodo
by Chamelaucium
Summary: When Bilbo leaves the Shire after his eleventy-first birthday, Frodo is left feeling lost and alone. Worried about him, Frodo's friends band together to help him feel better. Not slash, simply our favourite hobbits trying to cheer up their dear friend.
1. Bilbo

_**Cheering Frodo**_

**_1:_ Bilbo**

Shocked and upset, Frodo watched his uncle disappear before his very eyes. He left the party as soon as he could escape from all the astonished guests, who seemed to think that as Bilbo's cousin and heir he was the source of all knowledge – that Frodo would know where Bilbo was.

Frodo slipped quickly out of the field and up the path to Bag End. He entered the dark and silent smial.

Bilbo wasn't there.

Suddenly he caught sight of Gandalf sitting in the shadow cast by the fire.

'He's really gone, isn't he?' Frodo asked.

'Yes,' Gandalf replied. 'But he left you something.' Frodo took the proffered envelope. He felt Bilbo's ring inside, heavy in his palm. A ring, in return for his guardian and most favoured cousin. No; it was not really a fair deal. He'd rather have Bilbo than his ring, even if it did render you invisible (which was, Frodo had to admit, quite a neat little trick). This thought was further confirmed when Gandalf advised him not to make use of it. What use was the ring to him?

Frodo felt the weight of loneliness start to press down upon his shoulders. Gandalf wouldn't stay here forever, and now Bilbo was gone. He would be stuck in the smial by himself, with no one for company. Already he fancied he could feel the walls of the smial begin to close in around him... He shook himself irritably. This wouldn't do; one thing Bilbo had always instilled into him was common sense, and allowing these fanciful thoughts in would not have made his uncle proud.

Frodo sat down heavily in his chair.

'I'll miss him,' he said thickly. 'I never really got to say goodbye.'

He felt Gandalf's hand on his shoulder and a few comforting taps. Then silence. After sitting like that for a while Frodo went to bed; he would have a long day tomorrow.

* * *

The next day Frodo spent answering questions from neighbours and relatives alike, and all of them asked the same thing: _where was Bilbo?_ Frodo could only reply that he had gone away, for good, most likely; and would probably not be coming back.

That satisfied most of them, as they could now openly say what most of them thought – _old mad Baggins had finally cracked_ – and most of them received something from the very hobbit they had no qualms about insulting. For them, Bilbo's leaving was quite profitable, thank you very much; not only did they get three free meals the day before, but also a little trinket or two.

Frodo saw the mercenary attitude most of the hobbits were showing, and despaired. What was he going to do without Bilbo? His friend, mentor, guide… Bilbo had been his father for the past twelve years. Frodo left Merry, who'd come to help, to deal with all the people while he went to rest for a while.

Curled up in bed, listening to the bustle outside, Frodo let himself cry for the uncle and friend he was going to miss sorely.

* * *

**A/N: More will be coming soon! I hope you liked this so far; please let me know what you think! :) I really appreciate reviews, and they really do help keep me writing!**

**Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading! :D**


	2. Friends

**_2._ Friends**

Frodo had been holed up in that smial for two weeks now. He wasn't receiving company and was keeping to himself. Moping, Merry suspected; not that Frodo would ever admit that_. Considering his situation_, Frodo would insist.

Merry decided that enough was enough. Frodo could not spend the rest of his life in hiding. Confiding his plan to Pippin, the two set off for Bag End. Merry was going to get Frodo to cheer up, one way or another.

They arrived in early Winterfilth, as the days were growing shorter and the weather more chill. They had stabled their horses and were walking up Bag End's front path when they saw Sam working in a flower bed by the green front door of the smial.

'Hoi, Sam!' Merry called. 'Is Frodo in?'

'Aye, sir. But he isn't accepting visitors. He won't even let me in to see him, sirs; how am I supposed to make sure he's all fed and managing alright if he won't even see me…' Sam was becoming visibly distressed. Merry quickly rested his hands on Sam's forearms to try and calm him down.

'Sam, that's why we're here; to try and get Frodo to feel better. He can't go on hiding from the world, and we're going to make him see that.'

'Aye, sirs, that's good of you an' all,' Sam sniffled into his handkerchief. Merry and Pippin made their way up to the front door and were about to push it open when Sam stopped them.

'He's locking his front door now, to keep the folks away,' he piped up. The two cousins looked at each other. This was bad; no one locked their doors in Hobbiton…

'I can let you in the back way, but once you're in it don't mean he'll see you. He's got locks on his bedroom and the study.'

'Thank you, Sam. Just let us in, and we'll find a way,' Merry smiled encouragingly at Sam. They followed him round to the kitchen door at the back end of the smial, and entered.

'Sam, we _will_ help Frodo; and he _will_ get better,' Merry promised. Sam nodded, and hurriedly walked away, fiercely wiping his eyes.

Fearing the worst, Merry and Pippin tentatively opened the door and stepped over the threshold. They were pleasantly surprised by what they found in the kitchen; Frodo was not a slovenly hobbit, and the dirty plates he had used were stacked neatly in the sink, unwashed. What concerned Merry and Pippin was the small size of that stack - evidently Frodo was not eating.

Together they walked quietly out of the kitchen and into the long corridor. It was early afternoon, and they imagined Frodo would be in his study, studying old Elvish scripts and translating passages, like he used to. But the study was quiet, eerily so. There was no sound of ink pen scratching against parchment, or the rustling of pages being leafed through, or even the soft sigh of someone breathing. It was deserted.

Looking around the empty room, Merry and Pippin shared a dark glance. If Frodo was not in here and Sam had not seen him leave the smial, he must still be inside – and the only other logical place to be would be his bedroom. That made Merry a little anxious – Frodo must be feeling _very_ low, if he hadn't even got himself up and out of bed.

The two padded softly along the corridor. As they got closer to Frodo's room, they could see that the door as slightly ajar. However they stilled in shock when they heard someone give a soft sigh in the room just ahead of them, and quiet footfalls could be heard. Merry cautiously approached the door and peered around it.

There was Frodo, in what Merry realised now was Bilbo's old room, wandering around and studying certain objects. He was certainly moping, Merry thought – Frodo grazed his hand across the mantelpiece shelf and softly touched the portrait of himself and Bilbo that sat in an ornate silver frame; he picked up some of Bilbo's old books and ran his hand along the spines, staring intently at the lines of script inside.

Merry turned to Pippin, and silently backed out of the doorway.

'He's in there,' he whispered, deadly silent, into Pippin's ear. Pippin nodded.

'What are you going to do then, Merry?'

'Watch,' Merry grinned at his younger cousin.

When Frodo was absorbed in gazing out of the window at the view his uncle's room afforded, Merry quietly slipped inside. He picked up one of the books lying around and opened it. He sat down in a well-cushioned velvet chair and arranged himself to look as comfortable as if he'd been there the whole time. He could see Pippin peering in through the gap of the doorway, the firelight casting a glint in his eyes.

'My dear Frodo, what _are_ you reading?'

Frodo whipped round in alarm faster than a hound runs after the fox, his eyes wide in sudden terror – until he saw Merry calmly sitting in the armchair leafing through a book with a critical eyebrow raised at the contents of the book.

'Merry,' Frodo's voice was soft with relief that it was only his cousin, and then it developed a steely ring to it. 'What are you doing here? I don't want visitors, Merry.'

Merry looked up at Frodo. His eyes were ringed by dark circles, and his hair was unkempt. He looked haggard and slightly unwell.

'I've come to see you, Frodo! Word has it you've holed yourself up in here, and I came to make sure that you're alright.'

Frodo didn't smile; instead he clenched his fists and closed his eyes.

'Please, Merry. I really don't feel like talking. Not even to you.'

Merry closed the book with a snap, which jolted Frodo's eyes open again.

'Well, cousin Frodo, I'll let you in peace for now, but you _will_ talk to me at some point. You can't keep yourself hidden away, and we've come to help you see that.'

'"We"? Who else is here?'

'Pippin. Frodo, really, do you think Bilbo would want you to sit around moping? He's always loved adventure; do you think that just because he's gone he'd approve of you cutting yourself off from everyone else?'

'I miss him, Merry,' said Frodo, his teeth gritted and a pained expression on his face. 'He was my family, and without him I feel… ungrounded.'

'Well, your roots are here to make you stable again,' Merry smiled. 'Don't forget you spent nine years of your childhood with us at Brandy Hall, Frodo. You were like an older brother to me.'

'I know,' Frodo whispered, and a tear fell down his cheek before he angrily wiped it away.

'Forgive me, Merry. But I can't…' he trailed off.

'Frodo, Pippin and I will go and sort out some lunch. Then we can talk,' Merry said softly. He took one of Frodo's hands, still clenched by his side, and gripped it gently. Frodo nodded, and then retreated back to the window, while Merry quickly left the room and shut the door behind him.

Outside, Merry began striding to the kitchen and Pippin fell into step with him.

'What are we going to do now, Merry?'

'We'll make lunch, get something in his belly – that always helps you feel better – and see if he's willing to come out of hiding. If not, we'll have to provoke him into it.'

'How will you do that?'

Merry grinned at Pippin. 'Test him, of course.'

* * *

_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review - I want to know what you think :)**_


	3. Merry

_**3:**_** Merry**

Cooking was neither Merry nor Pippin's strong point, so they scrambled round the kitchen and the pantry trying as best as they could to put together something edible. They found a loaf of bread, gone rather stale now but not too hard as to render it impossible to eat, some relishes and various cheeses. Pippin rather hoped that a mug of the fine ale Bilbo had stored in the cellar would hide the obvious lack of tasty fare, and so he served three mugs – which were unfortunately rather warm, but that couldn't be helped.

Merry returned to Bilbo's room where Frodo was still reminiscing – when Merry entered he was cradling a little silver clock he had given Bilbo for his first Yule at Bag End – to try and get him to come and eat. At first Frodo refused to come to the kitchen, but Merry was not easily deterred.

'That's fine, Frodo. I'll just get Pippin to bring the food down, and we can all eat in here. It's a rather cosy room, don't you think? Yes, it would be rather nice-'

'Alright, Merry. I'm coming,' Frodo sighed irritably.

Merry grinned at his older cousin, and led him down the hall, walking at Frodo's side to make sure he didn't try and slip away back to his room or Bilbo's.

Pippin was sitting waiting for them, and once Frodo had sat down they set to with gusto. Or rather, Merry and Pippin began eating enthusiastically – Frodo didn't eat at all and instead sat ripping up his bread, forming little dough spheres and rolling them around his plate; he crumbled his cheese into little scraps forming a layer of creamy yellow morsels over his plate. The ale he didn't touch.

Pausing for a moment, Merry looked over at his cousin.

'Frodo, you must eat,' he said seriously.

Frodo shrugged. 'I'm not hungry,' he said sullenly.

When Merry continued to glare at him, Frodo gave a sigh and nibbled on what remained of his bread. Eventually he stood up.

'I'm going back to bed now,' he stated. But Merry jumped up and stopped him.

'Frodo, you haven't been out of this smial for two weeks. It's such a nice day today; why don't we go for a quick walk? We can wander in the woods for a bit, if you like; that way no one will see you.'

At Merry's obvious concern, Frodo allowed himself to be bundled into his coat and ushered out of the smial, his cousins keeping a firm grip on his elbows, guiding him along. They kept under the cover of the trees, the autumn air chilly and crisp, and birdsong filling the air with unusual clarity. It was a beautiful day, Merry thought.

Frodo remained silent, and soon Merry couldn't stand it any longer. He _would_ get Frodo to feel better.

'Hey, Frodo, do you remember when you lived with us at Brandy Hall and we used to see who could name the most plants in two minutes?'

Frodo nodded, but unenthusiastically.

'Why don't we play it now? You surely can't have forgotten your flora! You always were a whizz. Even Mother thought you were the best – I disagree though, I think…' Merry chattered on, trying to draw out Frodo's competitive side, which who only knew was big enough for the both of them; but it didn't work. Frodo remained as tight-lipped and sad as before.

Merry couldn't help but feel that Frodo's great big eyes, usually so full of laughter and light, now looked washed out and pale, like the sky reflected in a puddle. Not really real; a reflection, a mirage. Merry hoped his cousin was not so deeply caught in his depression that it would be impossible to pull him out of the depths.

With a sigh at his cousin's refusal to cooperate, Merry turned back to the path ahead. Then inspiration struck.

'I found a manuscript in Father's study the other day,' he began nonchalantly.

Frodo looked up; talk of manuscripts had caught his attention, as Merry knew it would. Always the intellectual, was Frodo.

'It was old, and it was a record of all the previous Masters of Buckland – but that's not all…'

When he was sure he had both Frodo and Pippin's attention, he carried on.

'What was special about this document, my dear cousins, is that not only did it list the names of all my forbears, but it also told a curious tale. Apparently, in the early third age, I don't remember exactly when, there was a strange incident with the then Master of Buckland scouting his borders and coming face to face with a _Man_. Can you believe it? A Man on the borders of the Shire! I've never heard of Men roaming in these lands, but there you go!'

Pippin gave a nervous laugh.

'Really, Merry? You're not just teasing, are you? I don't know that I'd like to meet a Man, myself. They're so big.'

'Don't worry, Pip. I doubt you'll ever need to; they don't really bother with us much. Which is why I was so surprised to find out that there were Men around the borders. Isn't that right, Frodo?'

Frodo looked glumly ahead of him, and didn't respond at first, until Merry heard a hoarse whisper beside him.

'Bil… Bilbo told me about them once. That they guard the borders of the Shire. When we used to go on walks…' Frodo squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from crying.

Merry was surprised; but when he thought about it, if anyone would have known about it, it would have been Bilbo. After all, Bilbo was the only hobbit who'd left the Shire in living memory.

'Once again, Frodo, you prove yourself more knowledgeable than me! And there I was thinking I'd got the upper hand for once.'

Frodo gave a ghost of a smile, the barest twitching of the corners of his lips, and then – 'I'd quite like to go home now, please.'

Merry shot Pippin a glance – perhaps their plan was working! – and they all turned round, and walked back in the direction they had come. Merry was feeling optimistic – Frodo had nearly smiled, but he was still not talking much. They still had work to do.

* * *

That evening as they made dinner, Merry contemplated how best to get Frodo to talk. He'd always loved arguing – and he'd always won, back as a young hobbit at Brandy Hall. Many a time he'd beaten even hobbits older than him when it came to a battle of wits. Maybe that was the way forward…

Together, the three sat at the table over a bowl of hot stew – Sam had been able to provide a much-needed hand, and he was only too happy to help, if it meant his master would be happy.

Merry looked at Frodo thoughtfully. What was a subject that Frodo cared deeply about, but that was not directly related to Bilbo, which would just make him more upset? He'd spent the rest of the afternoon in Bilbo's study, poring over maps just like his uncle had done before he left. Then Merry had it – that room was full of books. Frodo loved to read. Here, then was his subject matter!

'Frodo, what do you think about novels?'

Frodo gave a shrug.

'Personally, I think they're terrible.' (Merry, of course, was lying through his teeth here. His father had his own collection back at Brandy Hall and in the lonely days after Frodo left to move to Bag End, Merry had spent many a day lost in these novels to forget his own solitude.) 'They're a bad influence on people and, let's be frank, they're all the same.'

He could see Frodo struggling to maintain his nonchalant façade – he knew that Frodo wanted to shoot down everything Merry had just said but at the same time didn't want to become too animated.

Merry heartlessly continued, encouraging Frodo's inner struggle. 'They all use the same themes; the same messages… give me one example of a story which is completely new. See? You can't.' Merry was enjoying this now.

'Merry, you can't say that. It's not true…' Frodo began to speak, but soon was quiet again.

'Come on, Frodo. Persuade me. Just like you used to, argue with me,' Merry goaded his older cousin.

'Well for a start, Merry, novels are not a bad influence. I know you read novels after I left, because you told me about them – and you haven't turned into a mad, cracked hobbit, and neither have I, so there's one argument of yours that's invalid. And secondly, novels are only written about what's important – love and friendship and courage. There's only one hobbit I know who'd read a book about vegetables, and that's Sam; so don't tell me you would because I can see on your face it would be a lie. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Good night, Meriadoc and Peregrin. Don't bother getting me up in the morning.'

He stood up suddenly, the chair scraping on the stone tiled floor, and stormed out of the kitchen. They heard his bedroom door slam. Merry and Pippin shared a glance.

'Perhaps I overdid it,' Merry said sheepishly.

Pippin looked thoughtful.

'No, Merry, I don't think you did. I think he's cross at _himself_, not you; he didn't want to respond but he did, and now he's annoyed. And that's a good thing, I think. He's ready to get better.'

Merry saw the truth in this; although he was a little surprised. For one so young, Pippin was surprisingly astute.

'Well, I don't think he'll respond to me again. It's your turn, Pip, to try and get Frodo to cheer up!'

Pippin grinned.

'I know just what I'm going to do!'


	4. Pippin

_**4: **_**Pippin**

Pippin was up when the sky began to grow light, which was at about the seventh hour of the clock. Being young, Pippin did not mind being up and about early, but he knew that Frodo would – which was exactly the reason for his early start.

He wandered to the kitchen, a bleary-eyed Merry following, sleep still in his eyes, which he could hardly keep open.

'Pippin, did we have to start so early? Couldn't it have waited? You _know_ I don't like mornings…'

'Of course we have to start early, Merry. How else are we going to get Frodo up? We can't indulge him, you know,' Pippin responded tartly to his cousin. He began trying to sort out breakfast, banging the pots and pans loudly as he did so, but not really achieving anything but a mess. Merry took pity on him and took over – at least he managed to crack the eggs _into_ the pan, and not over the countertop.

The sound of sizzling eggs and bread being toasted filled the kitchen, until the sound and smell of eggs burning and toast turning black that replaced it. Quickly, Merry and Pippin set about salvaging the food; luckily the eggs weren't too badly burnt but Pippin did have to spend five minutes standing over the bin scraping the charcoal off the toast in order to make it edible.

When that was done, Pippin heaped the food onto a plate and carried it down the hall to Frodo's room, singing loudly as he did so.

Throwing open the door, Pippin set the tray down on the bedside table and then proceeded to leap onto Frodo's bed, grabbing Frodo by the shoulder and gently shaking him.

'Wake up, dear cousin Frodo! It's another lovely day, and we've got you breakfast!'

Groggily Frodo looked up at Pippin.

'What's the time?' he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he made to sit up.

Still ensconced in Frodo's blankets, Pippin replied chirpily, 'Early!'

'Pippin, I told you not to get me up! I'm going back to sleep…' Frodo groaned, and made to slip back down under the quilt.

'No you're not, Frodo, because if you do, I'll sit on you until you get up,' Pippin warned.

'That would just defeat the point, Pippin, because if you sit on me I won't be _able_ to get up,' Frodo pointed out.

'Would you like to try it?' Pippin asked sweetly – too sweetly. Frodo glared at his youngest cousin, and at Merry, who was standing by the open door.

'Fine, I'm getting up. Where's breakfast?'

Pippin pointed to the tray of slightly burnt food. Frodo looked at it sceptically.

'I think I'll come and have bread and jam in a moment. But first, I want to get dressed.'

He picked up the tray and placed it firmly in Pippin's hands, and then chivvied them out of his bedroom and shut the door.

Once outside, Merry and Pippin shared an excited glance.

'We're getting somewhere, Pip!' Merry said in a delighted whisper.

Pippin only smiled knowingly in reply.

Not long after, Frodo entered the kitchen fully dressed, and set about getting himself some bread and covering it with thick, sweet strawberry jam. Merry and Pippin, deciding it would be wasteful to throw away the eggs and toast, had made quick work of eating it themselves. _Waste not, want not,_ went the saying.

While they sat at the breakfast table, they could hear Sam arriving and starting work in the garden. In the silence as Frodo ate without looking at them, Merry and Pippin grew fidgety as the sound of Sam's clippers and shears became the only other sound apart from Frodo steadily chewing.

Suddenly Pippin piped up.

'Frodo, it's been so long since you last came to see us at Great Smials. Why don't we play a game? You always used to like Hide and Seek and you always won; we could play that!'

Excitement was visible on Pippin's face at the thought of playing a game with his older cousins. Hide and Seek was his favourite game!

'Sorry Pippin, but I really am not in the mood to be running around-'

'Please, Frodo?' Pippin turned every ounce of charm and cuteness on that he could – and having three older sisters, Pippin had had really rather a lot of practice. At the sight of his younger cousins pleading face, downturned mouth and sorrowful eyes staring balefully at him, Frodo gave a sigh.

'Alright then, Pippin. But only for a bit!'

Pippin gave a gasp of delight and threw his arms around Frodo. At first Frodo accepted the embrace but woodenly; when Pippin tightened his grasp, Frodo's arms wrapped around his cousin and Pippin felt a soft kiss land on his head. He smirked into Frodo's shirt; he knew his cousin was getting better.

Graciously, Pippin let the others hide first, while he counted. He wandered around the smial trying to find Merry and Frodo. He found Merry crouched under the low table in the front parlour, but he couldn't see Frodo anywhere. Confused, he and Merry searched the smial, but he was nowhere to be found.

'He hasn't run off, has he?' Pippin asked anxiously.

'I don't know… Maybe, Pip,' Merry replied.

Suddenly they heard an exclamation from the garden. It was Sam's voice, raised in astonishment.

'Why, Mr Frodo sir! Whatever are you doing in here?'

Quick as a flash Merry and Pippin raced out to the garden to see Frodo outside the garden tool shed talking with Sam, who had gone red and looked embarrassed as he realised the mistake he'd made when he saw Merry and Pippin come storming out of the smial.

'I'm awful sorry, sir,' he said worriedly to Frodo.

'Don't worry, Sam. I shouldn't have hidden where I'd get in the way,' he replied briskly, and immediately started back inside.

'Oh no, Mr Frodo, you weren't-' Sam began, but he was addressing Frodo's back. Pippin saw his eyes fill with tears as he was ignored by the master he looked up to and respected. Taking pity on him, Pippin placed a hand on Sam's arm and offered a timid smile.

'I'm sorry, Sam. I thought he was feeling better today…'

'Naught to worrit about, sirs. Please, don't mind me. I'd best finish my work, now…' hurriedly Sam patted Pippin's hand and then walked off to the other end of the garden, and as he went Pippin heard him take a shuddering breath.

Turning to his cousin, Pippin said desperately, 'Merry, we can't let this go on. Frodo needs to understand that it's not all about him – that he's hurting Sam.' He looked back towards the gardener, bowed over the flower beds. 'Come on,' he commanded, and the two of them walked back into the smial.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with Merry and Pippin testing various methods of capturing Frodo's interest. They tried food competitions to see who could eat the most in two minutes – this idea was rather put paid to, however, when it became apparent that there wasn't really much expendable food in the smial, as Frodo hadn't bothered to go shopping since Bilbo had left.

Merry offered to go and on his way down the garden path Sam stopped him, and offered his assistance, and the two of them walked into Hobbiton to collect some groceries.

It was growing dark while they were out, and Frodo was lying lethargically on the sofa in the parlour – after Pippin had insisted on following him everywhere he had grown bored of trying to shake off the young hobbit and to keep him happy stayed where he was wanted – but he didn't respond to Pippin's questions except for a nod or shake of the head, and simply stared up at the ceiling.

Pippin decided it was time to play his 'cute' card again. Quietly he slipped out of the parlour and into the study, where he looked at the books lined up neatly on the shelves and carefully considered his choice. He chose a volume that looked to be full of old fairy tales; an old tome, but well-thumbed. It looked as if Frodo had had similar interests in stories as his young cousin some years ago.

Pippin pulled it off its shelf and carried it back to the parlour. Then he carefully hitched himself up onto the sofa so that he was sitting on Frodo's stomach. Frodo didn't try to throw him off, but he did heave a little sigh.

'Frodo, will you read to me, please?' Pippin asked in his most innocent voice.

'No, Pippin,' Frodo replied, his eyes closed.

'Alright then.' Pippin inflected his voice with enough melancholy to make Frodo feel bad, but then brightened it considerably. '_I'll_ read to _you_, cousin Frodo!'

Frodo gave a ghost of a smile and stayed still. Pippin took this as confirmation that he could begin.

Flicking through the leaves of the book, Pippin came to one story on which a marker had been placed, long forgotten about now. Pippin assumed it was once Frodo's favourite story. In fancy script, the title proclaimed 'Ainulindale'_*****_.

Pippin struggled with the word, but eventually pronounced it. He saw Frodo smile, his eyes closed as he listened. Then Pippin began to read.

Instantly he was caught up in the story, the tale of how the world came to be. Forgetting all about Frodo, he read on, lost in the beauty of this creation story. He only remembered where he was when he heard the front door close, and Merry announce his return.

Pippin looked at Frodo to ask him what he thought about the story, but he realised his cousin was asleep; sleeping blissfully and peacefully, lulled by the words into rest. He looked so serene, Pippin thought.

Merry appeared in the doorway.

'Pippin, Frodo, I got-'

Pippin hushed him.

'He's asleep, Merry,' he whispered, and the two younger hobbits regarded their sleeping cousin. Even then, he still had a smile on his face. Merry set down the groceries and proceeded to carry Frodo into his bedroom, with Pippin's help, and they set him down on the bed and wrapped the blankets around him and dimmed the lamps.

When Pippin gave Frodo a last hug before he left the room, he heard Frodo give a low mumble into his ear, no louder than a sigh.

'Thank you.'

* * *

_*** "Ainulindale" is the creation story of Middle-Earth as told in **_**The Si****lmarillion**_**.  
**_

_**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's always fun to write chapters about Pippin; he's just so adorable! Especially as he's really young at this point.  
**_

_**Anyway. Please review and I really hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading :)**_


	5. Sam

_**5**_**: Sam**

Sam helped Mr Merry carry the shopping bags to the front door of Bag End, and then when Merry insisted he could manage, Sam excused himself and set off towards home.

'Just a moment, Sam,' he heard Merry call. Sam turned around.

'Sam, Pippin and I have tried to make Frodo happy and we are getting somewhere, but we need a new strategy. We need you to try, Sam. Maybe you'll be able to break down the wall he's built around himself.'

Mr Merry was looking at him so hopefully, and with such faith in his open, friendly face that Sam could hardly say no; but how could _he _help Frodo?

'Mr Merry, sir, I want to be of use, really I do, but I don't see as how I can do anything to help-'

'Sam, you really are a dear friend to Frodo. He's always going on about you, you know. Now is your chance, Sam, to help Frodo. Do it for him, if not for myself and Pippin.'

Sam nodded. Yes, he'd do it, if it meant Mr Frodo would be happy again. He hated seeing him sad, a shadow of his former self.

'Of course, Mr Merry. Whatever it takes, you can count on me.'

'Thank you, Sam! Frodo will appreciate it eventually. Be here early tomorrow morning, if you can,' Merry smiled at Sam, and then turned and opened the door to Bag End.

Feeling nervous but determined, Sam made his way home, wondering all the while what he could possibly do.

* * *

Sam made good his promise to Merry and was up in the kitchen of Bag End early the next morning. He knew what he would do: Frodo was always hungriest in the morning, so he would make him the biggest, most delicious breakfast that he had had in a long time. Mr Frodo wouldn't be able to say no to that, and perhaps that would make him happy.

So saying, Sam set about cracking eggs into a cup, mixing them with herbs and whisking them, frothing them up until light and fluffy and then pouring the mix into a hot pan; cooking bacon and sausages until just right; toasting bread just the right amount until it was exactly as Frodo liked it. The smell was divine; Sam's stomach was rumbling as he cooked. Mr Frodo couldn't refuse this!

Merry and Pippin had come down and were keeping him company as he worked; he had a hard time keeping them away from the food – particularly young Mr Pippin, who would probably have stolen Mr Frodo's plate if Sam hadn't caught him. Eventually the two younger hobbits settled down with some bread and jam of their own and then helped Sam make a big pot of hot, fragrant tea.

When it was all ready, Sam picked up the tray and followed Merry and Pippin down the corridor to Frodo's room. He wasn't sure whether to go in or not, but Mr Frodo was sitting up in bed and smiled a little when he saw his three friends at the door, and Sam was assured enough that he wasn't unwelcome.

Shyly, he placed the tray down in front of Mr Frodo.

'I made you this, sir,' he said, looking at his feet.

'Thank you, Sam,' he heard Mr Frodo mumble, and then he dutifully set about eating what was in front of him. He ate only a couple of bites of everything, though, and Sam was dismayed when Frodo handed back the tray with a nearly full plate.

'Did you not like it, sir? I made everything just how you usually do-'

'I did like it, Sam; I'm just not very hungry, that's all,' Frodo sighed. Sam wasn't satisfied, but he didn't have an opportunity to reply as Frodo then climbed out of bed and made for his dresser, shooing everyone out of his room in the process.

Sam stood outside in the hall, a little hurt at Mr Frodo's refusal to eat what Sam had painstakingly and lovingly cooked for him; Merry and Pippin were also looking crestfallen. After the success of yesterday's reading, they told Sam, they had thought that perhaps he would be better. But apparently that was not the case.

Then Sam remembered something that he reckoned might cheer Mr Frodo up a good deal – over the past week or so Sam had been carefully creating a lattice which would, eventually, fit around Mr Frodo's window and create a border of sweet-smelling flowers which would perfume his room in the morning. It wasn't finished, but it was certainly taking shape. It wouldn't be long until Sam could fix some lengths of flowing ivy onto it, until spring came when he would replace it with bright, perfumed blooms.

Mr Frodo had always taken an interest in Sam's gardening work; surely he would love to see this?

Sam hurried out to the garden to make it presentable; Merry and Pippin went to get Frodo and show him outside. They were a while, and Sam started to wonder why they weren't out there yet; was Mr Frodo alright? Then Sam began to wonder if perhaps he hadn't cooked everything well enough, that Mr Frodo was suffering an upset stomach and all because of him –

But then his fears were slightly dispelled when the three other hobbits came out of the kitchen door and made their way to Sam. Sam was disheartened to see Mr Frodo looking so glum. Sam hoped Frodo didn't think he was making a nuisance of himself; that wouldn't do at all.

'Look, Frodo, look what Sam's making you!' Pippin cried out, pointing to the trellis. Frodo registered the lattice work with the slight raising of an eyebrow, and a small smile in Sam's direction. Sam began to explain to Mr Frodo all his plans for it, asking which flowers he thought smelled nicest; Mr Frodo listened carefully to Sam, but didn't show much enthusiasm.

Sam knew that the _old_ Mr Frodo would have been just as excited about this project as he was; where had that Frodo gone? All their efforts were so far to no avail. Surely the old Frodo was still there somewhere.

Sam grew upset as Frodo appeared to listen, but Sam could see the defences that he'd put in place, veiling his eyes. Sam was _not_ going to do this anymore – he couldn't face seeing his master transform from the much-loved and respected, happy hobbit he was before to this mere shell.

First of all he wouldn't see Sam at all and locked him out; then he wouldn't eat Sam's especially-carefully cooked food; and now he wasn't showing any interest in Sam's work. Well, Sam knew his worth and much as it pained him, _this_ Mr Frodo obviously didn't.

His eyes began to fill with hot tears which seemed to burn, and Sam aggressively wiped them away.

'Mr Frodo, sir, I'm afraid I gotta say something. I don't as much like it, but here it is. If you don't get better, sir, and do as your cousins here tell you, I'm leaving. I'm a skilled gardener, sir, and there's a good many hobbits in town as'd have me, including those Sackville-Bagginses. If you continue like this, sir, I'll take my work elsewhere.

'There, Mr Frodo sir, I've said it; and I mean every word of it too.'

* * *

_**A/N: Please Review :) The next chapter is very short, so I'm posting it in just a moment. **_

_**I hope you enjoyed this one! :)**_


	6. Frodo

_**6: **_**Frodo**

Sam stood before him, tears glinting in his eyes but his face set as he regarded his master. Frodo listened in astonishment to Sam's ultimatum. How could he be saying that? Couldn't he see that it just wasn't that easy…

And then Frodo realised – it was. Of course it was, and he'd been too blind to see it.

Here he was, with his three best friends all standing by him and looking after him where he would surely have been lost by himself, and still he clung to the thought of Bilbo, his dearest Uncle and guide, and been completely oblivious to those that _were _still with him.

But he didn't need Bilbo now, not really. He had his friends, who had proved themselves to him by trying to help him where most others had just let him alone.

How could he have been so blind? Blinded by his love for Bilbo, he had completely failed to see the love his friends bore for him. How could he have treated them all like this? What kind of a friend was he in return?

And now Sam, his dear Sam, was threatening to leave his service and take up with the S-B's._ Not on my watch he won't_, thought Frodo vehemently.

As he realised all of this, it all became clear; and the mist that had shrouded his mind in a cloud of darkness was suddenly lifted.

Addressing his friend, he smiled.

'Don't you go anywhere, Samwise Gamgee.'

Startled, all three of the others looked at him, all with the same look of surprise etched on their faces.

'Bilbo would never forgive me if I let Bag End's gardener slip away. I don't think he'd forgive me for behaving like this, though, either,' he sighed, looking Merry, Pippin and Sam in the eye. Sam was really crying now, and Frodo pulled him into a hug.

'I'm sorry, Sam. I know you were only looking out for me. And where would I be if you weren't?'

'I know, sir. And I don't know if I _could_'a left you, really, Mr Frodo,' Sam mumbled into the fabric of Frodo's shirt. Pulling away slightly, Frodo smiled at Sam.

'Don't ever threaten anything like that again, Sam.'

Sam gave a watery laugh, and wiped his eyes once more.

Turning to his cousins, Frodo swept them each into an embrace, hugging little Pippin especially tightly.

'My dear hobbits,' he said fondly. 'Thank you.' He wasn't sure how he could express his gratitude to them for saving him; without them it was certain he would have sunk so deep into the darkness that he would have been lost forever; and that wouldn't have brought Bilbo back, either way.

Yes, he was lucky indeed to have friends such as these.

Suddenly, Frodo's usual impish grin spread across his face.

'Right then. Who feels up for a bit of Hide and Seek?'

_Finis_

* * *

**_A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed :) Short and sweet! _**

**_Please review and let me know what you thought! :D I really hope you all enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading, especially to those of you who reviewed as well! :)  
_**


End file.
